


To Cure a Demon

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Angel and Demon [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Cure, Demon Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, NSFW, Pain, Reader-Insert, Smut, Supernatural smut, angel trying to save demon!dean, reader is an angel, sex in the bunker, sex in the dungeon, use of grace to heal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finally had Demon!Dean back at the bunker, but he needs the reader's help to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Cure a Demon

**Author's Note:**

> I may have taken some minor artistic license with season 10, episode 3, Soul Survivor to make it fit with my story line. This takes place after Demon!Dean chases Sam through the bunker, but before we see Dean as cured.

You'd never known Sam to sound like that, desperate and scared. But that was exactly how he'd sounded when he'd called you and asked to talk to Castiel. He was worried that he wasn't curing Dean, but killing him. When Castiel told you he said that, you'd nearly come unglued. After everything you and Sam had gone through, everything you had gone through, Dean couldn't die. He couldn't.

Castiel had not been pleased that you’d wanted to go with him, in fact, he'd been furious. But you didn't care; you were going to see this through, no matter what. If it wasn’t for you, Sam wouldn’t even have found Dean, wouldn’t have been able to take him back to the bunker. There was no way you weren’t going to see this through.

Besides, you had something with Dean, something that only existed between the two of you, something that couldn't be severed, especially since you'd tried to use your grace to cure him. Of course, it hadn't worked, but it had left you with a strong physical and emotional connection to the demon that Dean had become. You were desperately hoping that connection would remain once Dean was himself again.

The car ride to the bunker was tense and uncomfortable. Neither Hannah nor Castiel had wanted you to come, each for their own reasons, but you were beyond caring what other angels thought. You had one singular goal, to save Dean Winchester. Nothing else mattered.

By the time you arrived at the bunker, you were angry and frustrated. The confrontation between Castiel and Crowley had cost valuable time and you had managed to convince yourself that Dean would be dead by the time you arrived. Of course, it turned out to be Sam that had nearly died rather than Dean.

You knew something was wrong as soon as you followed Castiel through the heavy metal door at the top of the stairs. You could hear banging, like wood breaking, coming from somewhere deep in the bunker. Castiel took off at a run, with you following close behind. You came around the corner to see Dean, an axe dangling from his hand, leaning into the knife - the demon killing knife - held by his brother.

“Do it. It’s all you,” Dean growled.

Sam dropped the knife, but just as Dean took a step towards his brother, Castiel wrapped his arms around him, pulling him away from the younger Winchester. You stepped between the brothers, your hands on Dean’s chest.

“Dean, it’s over,” you screamed, pushing against him, holding him back.

He growled, snapping and snarling at you like a rabid dog. It took both you and Castiel to wrestle Dean back to the bunker’s dungeon and into the devil’s trap. Castiel held him down while you locked the cuffs around his legs and wrists. Once he was secured, Sam pulled the two of you into the hallway. His hands were shaking and he looked like death.

“It’s not working,” he mumbled. “The blood doesn’t even seem to be affecting him. He’s too...strong. I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe I can help,” you said quietly. You looked between Sam and Castiel, not oblivious to the look they exchanged.

“How?” Castiel demanded.

You took a deep breath. “I could try...well...just let me talk to him for a few minutes.”

Castiel immediately shook his head, but Sam seemed to be contemplating your suggestion.

“Do you really think you could help?” he asked.

“I can try,” you shrugged. “Please, just let me try.”

“All right, let’s go,” Sam said, reaching for the door.

You stopped Sam with a hand to his arm. You didn’t want either Sam or Castiel going in there with you. Not with what you were planning to do.

“I need to do it alone, Sam,” you explained. “Sorry. It’s just easier that way.”

“I don’t think…” Sam mumbled.

“Let her do it,” Castiel interrupted. “If she really thinks it will help.” He shot a glare your direction, and you knew that he knew exactly what you were going to do. “Are you sure Y/N? You know what happened last time.”

“I’m sure, Castiel,” you replied. “I need to do this.”

“Please be careful,” Castiel said.

You nodded your thanks to the angel, then you squared your shoulders as you reached behind yourself for the the door handle. You slipped inside, your stomach flipping nervously.

You sauntered inside, your casual attitude belying the fact that you were extremely unsure and nervous. You locked the door, then took a seat at at a table littered with syringes and blood bags, you and Dean staring at each other. The angel and the demon.The air was thick with something indescribable, something stronger than both of you.

"He's going to kill me," Dean finally grumbled. "You know that, don't you?"

"Sam is trying to help you," you replied.

"Aw, angel, you’re so naive," Dean laughed. "It won’t work. I’ll be dead by morning."

"Don’t say that," you whispered. "I couldn't...that won’t happen."

"Will you tell me now? Why you care? Why you want to save me?" he asked. "What am I to you that you feel like you need to rescue me? My brother I get, hell, I even understand why Cas wants to save me, but you, I don’t get. What dragged your ass down from Heaven and prompted you to throw in with them? What is it about me that makes an angel want to save a demon?"

You stared at Dean for nearly a minute, trying to decided if you wanted to tell him the truth. You'd kept your secret for more than seven long years, never revealing it, not to anyone. You weren't sure telling Dean the truth would help. You were afraid it might make things worse.

"Well? Are you going to tell me or not?" Dean snarled. "If you're not, then go get Sam so he can continue killing me."

"I was your guardian angel," you spat out.

Dean's head shot up and he stared at you, a confused look on his face. "What do you mean, you were my guardian angel?"

"I was your guardian angel until you sold your soul for Sam's life," you explained. "Once you made the deal with the crossroads demon, I became useless. In fact, you could say I was...um...fired. Because I had failed you."

"Why didn't you save me?" Dean asked. “Make the deal go away, fix it somehow.”

"I couldn't," you answered. "That deal sealed your fate. There was nothing I could do."

"But I came back," he said. "What happened to you then?"

"Castiel," you shrugged. "Heaven decided he was enough."

“Obviously not,” Dean grumbled. He watched you, his eyes momentarily flicking from black then back to their normal iridescent green. “So, you feel guilty and now you’re trying to make amends, is that it? Save the mighty hunter and get your ticket to Heaven back?”

“That’s not the only reason,” you argued.

“Then what?” Dean asked. He eyes were no longer black like they’d been when you’d come in, instead they were his normal green color and he was staring at you with a look you couldn’t quite place. “Tell me angel, what’s the real reason you want to save me?” His voice was low and hesitant.

You almost told him, let him know how you really felt, but at the last second, you snapped your mouth shut and shook your head. You bit your lip, staring over Dean’s shoulder.

He shook his head, his brow furrowing in anger. “You can go, you know. I don’t want you here,” he snapped.

“You do,’ you replied. “You just can’t admit how you feel. Not when you’re...like this.”

“I don’t feel anything,” he argued. “You don’t mean a damn thing to me.”

You stood up and moved across the room until you were just inches away from him. "You saved my life. I must mean something to you." You ran your fingers through his hair, your thumb brushing against his cheek.

For just a second, he leaned into your hand, the stubble on his cheek scraping your palm. Dean looked up at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

“What are you doing, angel?” he whispered.

"Just one kiss," you murmured, leaning over him, your lips brushing softly against his. He made a deep, lustful sound low in the back of his throat and bit at your lip, drawing you in. You sighed and let the kiss deepen, all self-control gone, replaced with your desire for Dean. A desire you needed to let free so you could do what you needed to do.

When you were with him, your ability to reason, to think straight, to act with a sense of propriety disappeared, replaced with desperation and need like you'd never known. The second Dean's lips touched yours, you were lost. You climbed into his lap, took his head in both of your hands, tangled your fingers in his hair and kissed him with every inch of your body - your breasts pushed against his chest and your thighs tightened around his waist as you rubbed yourself against him, drawing a startled groan from the demon beneath you. You kissed him until you were both panting and sweating with an unfulfilled need.

“Fuck me, angel,” Dean growled when you finally pulled away. His hands were balled into fists and he was yanking at the cuffs holding his wrists to the arms of the chair. “I want you, Y/N. Fuck that, I need you.”

You were nodding, raining kisses over his face and neck as he spoke. Forget talking. You had another idea.

You fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, loosening them and sliding your hand into the waistband. Dean groaned as you took him in your hand and stroked him, his head following forward to rest against your chest.

“Mmm, that’s my angel,” he sighed, his breath hot and heavy on your skin. His hips moved, pushing himself into your hand, moaning low in the back of his throat. “God damn it, Y/N, are you gonna fuck me or not?”

You released him, just long enough to tug his jeans down, then you pulled up your skirt and straddled him, easing yourself down his cock, slowly, giving yourself a chance to adjust to his size, to open yourself up to him. When you finally felt comfortable, you pushed yourself down onto Dean, gasping as he filled you completely.

“Take off my cuffs, angel,” he groaned. “Let me touch you.”

“No,” you gasped, rocking forward into him at the same time he pushed his hips up. “I can’t.” You took his head in your hands, tilting his head back and kissing him, your tongue sliding into his mouth.

It was quick and desperate and unbelievably satisfying. At the end, as you came, you let go, your grace rushing through you and into Dean. His head fell back, every muscle in his body tensing, your name a curse on his lips.

You kept kissing him, holding him. He was gasping, his eyes filled with pain, as your grace moved through him. You finally managed to push yourself to your feet, your limbs heavy and tired from depleting your grace again.

“Damn it, Y/N,” Dean muttered. “You lied to me. You said your grace was too far gone to do that anymore.”

“I did say that,” you murmured. “I wasn’t lying though, at least, I didn’t think I was, not when I said it, anyway. And I’m not sorry. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I told you, I don’t want you to cure me,” he yelled. “You’re gonna kill yourself.”

You didn’t say anything, just adjusted his clothes, as well as your own, then you leaned over him, kissing him one last time. You tried to tell yourself that this time it would work, this time it could help and that you would be fine. And even if you weren’t, it didn’t matter, because what mattered was saving Dean. It was all that ever mattered.

“Stop trying to save me, angel,” he panted. “I don’t want to be saved if it means you die. None of it will matter if you’re dead.” His beautiful green eyes were filled with pain and longing.

“I love you, Dean,” you whispered. You turned your back on him, hurried to the dungeon door and unlocked it, letting reality back in.

You could hear Dean snarling and screaming, the sound deadly and frightening. He was jerking at the cuffs binding him to the chair, unbelievably vicious and cruel words surging from him.

“He’s ready, Sam,” you said, forcing yourself from the room. Castiel took your arm, a look of concern crossing his face.

“What did you do, Y/N?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t matter, now,” you gasped. “Save Dean.”

Sam nodded and pushed past you, while Castiel gave you one last irritated look before releasing your arm and following Sam.

"Let's finish this," you heard Sam mumble as the door slammed in your face.

* * *

You tried waiting outside the door, but Dean's screams of agony were too much for you to handle and Dean’s pain was echoing through you, nearly bringing you to your knees. You finally hurried away, escaping to the library. You could still feel everything, but it was not nearly as strong as when you’d been right outside the door. You paced back and forth in front of the shelves, reading the titles over and over as you walked, anything to get your mind off of what was happening downstairs. You started muttering them to yourself as you walked - Woodward’s Categorization of Demons, Ancient Weapons and Their Use in Modern Times, Frequently Used Incantations, Rituals and Spells, King’s Fabled Creatures and Monsters.

A sudden sharp pain brought you to your knees, your hands clutching the sides of your head. Your eyes watered as you felt your gorge rising, the vomit in the back of your throat. A scream ripped its way from your throat at the same time that a dull roar of pain tore through the bunker. You fell to your side, gasping for breath, your entire body shaking.

Just as suddenly as it began, it ended. You sat up and leaned against the shelves you had just been walking in front of, your heart pounding in your chest. It was gone. The connection you’d created with Dean when you’d flooded him with your grace was gone, like it had never existed. You couldn’t feel him at all, you couldn’t even sense him. God, was he dead? Had they failed and killed him?

You struggled to get to your feet, to go to them, to Dean. You had to know for sure. You could barely move and it hurt to breathe, but you needed to know. You were still sitting on the floor when Castiel appeared in the doorway.

“It’s done,” he said. “He survived.” Then he disappeared back down the hallway.

He was alive, safe and no longer a demon. You smiled to yourself, but even that hurt. You tried one more time to find him, to feel him, but there was nothing. Somehow when they’d cured Dean, they’d taken that connection as well.

And your grace, well, you couldn’t feel it at all. In fact you felt...different. Not just the different you’d felt when you’d left Heaven, but decidedly un-angel-like. An indescribable exhaustion seemed to have moved over you, deep into the marrow of your bones. It felt like your limbs weighed thousands of pounds and you could barely keep your eyes open. 

You sat on the floor for a long time, not sure what you should do. If Dean was cured, you were no longer needed. You could go, move on, leave him behind once and for all. Not that that was what you wanted. Just because Dean was himself again didn’t change how you felt. But you knew him, knew how he must be feeling right now. Angry with himself, guilty, ashamed. Seeing you wouldn’t help any of that, it would just add fuel to the fire. You pushed yourself to your feet. You would go. You were halfway up the stairs to the door when Sam spoke from behind you.

“He wants to see you, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“I can’t Sam,” you replied, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at the man behind you. “Not after everything that’s happened between us. You wouldn’t understand. It’s...well, it’s complicated.”

“Everything about this is complicated,” Sam muttered. “We’re Winchesters, complicated is our normal. Don’t walk out on him, Y/N. Please.”

“Tell him I’m sorry, Sam,” you mumbled. You yanked open the door and walked out. It was over.


End file.
